


The Doctor Dates

by Zedrobber



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: M/M, pure and wholesome lovey dovey dating, pure fluff, simple schmoop, tw: Food, warning: kisses (:O), warning: snuggles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zedrobber/pseuds/Zedrobber
Summary: First in a series of short, purely fluffy & hopefully adorable fics in which the Doctor & the Master go on a series of dates in various regenerations, some more planned than others. The first is Seven/Ainley.





	1. Chapter 1

**Seven//Ainley**

 

It was only after he had attempted to start reading the same page for the thirty-sixth time (or was it the thirty-seventh?) that he admitted it was perhaps a little ridiculous- and redundant- to be still sitting in the armchair.

 

Sighing wearily, he stood, slotting the well-worn book back into its place on the shelf absently. He wasn’t lonely. Or bored. Those were petty human emotions, thank you  _ very  _ much, and he did not intend to start wallowing in them now.

 

Still.

The TARDIS did feel rather empty today. Ace had a way of filling the space - usually with explosions, he amended wryly- and the absence of her left an echo he was no longer used to. She'd be back, of course, but still...

He paused by the console, frowning, waiting for something he couldn’t quite name. 

His stomach growled insistently.

 

Lunch.

 

That was it- the whole problem, right there. He was simply hungry. Nothing else to it.

“Well, I suppose I should do something about it,” he said to the room in general, and set about busying himself with the controls. 

 

-

 

The planet had a four-star rating on the Intergalactic Street Food Register, and so the Doctor chose it despite never having been there.

It was a dry, dusty looking place, with red rock and white sand and a brilliantly clear sky with not a cloud in sight. Thankfully there was a light breeze and hundreds of patches of colourful shade thrown by the tents of the vendors in the market square near where he landed. He pushed his hat down over his eyes and set off briskly, swinging his umbrella as though he had somewhere to be. It was usually a good tactic to avoid being eyed for a scam.

 

His pace slowed, however, almost as soon as he began to weave his way through the bright and cheery market stalls. Tantalising smells weaved their way towards him; meat coated in sticky, sweet sauce and roasted over an open flame, spicy vegetables of some kind in a lurid purple dressing that smelled like toasted marshmallows, endless stalls selling this planet’s equivalent to the humble pie in various flavours. Sellers of various species advertised their wares, the noise pleasant and friendly after the silence of his TARDIS. He ambled his way amongst it all, momentarily distracted from his dark mood and nibbling delicately on anything that took his fancy. The sunshine and the pleasant aromas worked their magic on him, and he soon found himself in a much more jovial mood, finding time to chat with the vendors and buy several pots and jars of tasty things for later, including a sweet and sticky amber-hued block for Ace. Apparently it could be eaten or used as the base for an explosive.

None of it was  _ quite _ what he was looking for, though, and so he kept wandering, humming softly to himself and on the lookout for a proper lunch.

 

Turning a corner into a wide and sun-soaked courtyard full of stalls with red-and-white striped awnings, he found himself staring at the broad shoulders and tapered waist of a man taking a hot tray from a vendor, his hearts stuttering for a wild and ridiculous moment before resuming at a gallop. He felt rooted to the spot, a cold shiver like rain sliding down his spine. Surely not here. Not today, of all days.

 

And yet- his chest felt tight and full of something bright and brittle, painful and explosive like he might need to scream. He wanted to shout, to call to the man in the black velvet tailcoat, to greet him wildly and run to him like he had when they were children. Wanted to grab his hand, wind their fingers together, grin at him and watch that serious, brilliant face break into the smile that only he ever saw. There was a second- only one, he counted- where he  _ almost _ gave into the desire, before he tightened his grip on his umbrella, took a deep breath, and strode towards him purposefully, scowling.

He sidled up beside the man, facing the display of food-  _ definitely _ what he’d been looking for, hot and savoury meat in a delicious smelling sauce; garlic and ginger and chilli, and what smelled suspiciously like honey- and said, low and as calmly as he could manage considering the clamouring of emotion in his head, “Master.”

 

The Master jumped- actually jumped as if startled- and looked over at him guiltily. “My dear Doctor?” he said, genuine pleasure in his voice, and his smile, oh  _ gods _ , his smile was real and beautiful. He turned back to the vendor and flashed her a more sedate, courteous version, handing over his money and digging a wooden utensil into the steaming food. “Thank you so much.”

“What are you doing here?” the Doctor asked, and he could feel the heat radiating from his old friend, could smell him, familiar and comforting and dangerous.  _ I’ve missed you, _ he wanted to say.  _ I haven’t seen you in so long. Where have you been? _

Instead, he stood silent, waiting.

 

“Oh, Doctor, surely you don’t suspect me of anything  _ insidious _ ? On such a lovely day?”

“I know you.” It came out harsher than he had intended, a snarl in his voice.

“I am simply buying myself some lunch,” the Master said mildly, lifting his tray into the Doctor’s eyeline. The Doctor’s stomach rumbled as if on cue as the delicious scent wafted in his direction.

“I suspect you should do the same. May I?”

The Doctor hesitated, eyeing the Master suspiciously.

“I assure you, Doctor. I am not here for any other reason. I happen to like this planet- the food is excellent, the climate is to my taste, and usually I can be rather anonymous.” His smile widened into a sharp and wolfish grin, one eyebrow raised in mischievous delight. “Usually. Now, can I buy you lunch, or are you going to hit me with your umbrella?”

The Doctor nodded dumbly, at a loss for words for the first time in remembered history.

“Excellent! Same again, please,” the Master addressed the seller politely, handing over another note.

Tray of hot lunch in his hand, the Doctor found himself somewhat more inclined to believe the Master.

“Shall we?” his friend asked, amusement in his voice. “I usually sit in the park.”

“Usually?”

“I am a somewhat frequent visitor.”

 

They walked in companionable silence through a stone-arched alley, shoulders almost brushing. Emerging into the dazzling sunshine once more, the Doctor’s eyes widened as he took in the park. It was like a miraculous oasis in the midst of all this dust; a green and shady patch of grass and trees, flowers at the edges and buttercups- were they buttercups? They certainly seemed familiar- scattered over the grassy expanse.

The Master led them to a white stone bench on the closest edge of the park, facing into the lush sanctuary with their feet tantalisingly close to the grass. The Doctor fought a childish impulse to kick his shoes off and feel the tickle of it under his feet.

 

-

 

“You haven't poisoned it, I suppose?” the Doctor asked suddenly with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth.

“I have not.”

“And you haven't killed the seller’s family.”

“Not that I am aware of.”

“Started a bloody revolution?”

“Not today. Doctor-” and there was a hint of exasperation in his voice, “-please do be quiet and eat, before I regret buying it for you.”

The Doctor did as he was told. It was  _ ridiculously  _ good- exactly what he'd been thinking of this morning. He said nothing as they both cleared their food methodically, occasionally stealing glances at the Master and finding himself relaxing despite his suspicions. Nothing untoward seemed to be happening.

 

“You're making me nervous, giving me that dark look all the time,” the Master announced eventually. 

“It's not a dark look. It's just a look.”

“Oh, my apologies. I believe it is just your face. That's an impressive set of eyebrows.”

The Doctor waggled them obligingly and grinned as the Master snorted in a very inelegant manner. 

 

“If you’re done, shall we?”

They disposed of the rubbish and stood, 

 

“Now what?” the Doctor asked, awkward and once again wondering at the Master’s intentions.

“Now we walk,” the Master said firmly, taking the Doctor by the elbow and steering him into the leaf-dappled shade of the trees. “Really, Doctor, you’d think we’d never done this.”

“It’s been a while,” the Doctor admitted with a little embarrassment, hooking his umbrella over his free arm as they walked together.

 

He relaxed gradually, barely noticing the moment that he stopped waiting for the sudden betrayal and started laughing, leaning companionably against the Master’s shoulder as they took a long and winding path through the park.He also didn’t notice until it was too late to move without looking impossibly rude that their fingers had entwined, as if of their own accord, remembering a memory of how they were supposed to be. He decided not to mention it for fear the Master would draw back, become sharp and acerbic again.

“That looks a likely spot,” the Master observed eventually, pointing to a large and leafy tree.

“For what?”

“I take it you brought a book?”

 

“Hmm.” The Doctor stuck his hand into one of his pockets and rummaged for a moment with his tongue out in concentration before coming up with a battered and dog-eared paperback. “Yes.”

The Master grinned and produced a similarly untidy book from an inside pocket of his tailcoat. 

“You mean-” the Doctor frowned in dawning comprehension.

 

“Is it really so hard to believe that I would simply like to read in the sun with you?”

“Well, yes, actually,” the Doctor replied, shrugging extravagantly. “I have to admit that I'm far more familiar with our endless battles of wits.”

 

“My dear Doctor,” the Master said with a fond sigh, “do sit down.”

The Doctor obliged, settling himself comfortably with his back against the trunk of the tree and his legs stretched out in front of him. Hishat he placed carefully next to him, patting it fondly.

“Those shoes are hideous,” the Master said in horrified awe.

“And you look like a mole with a beard in all of that velvet.” He punctuated the word  _ mole _ with a smug and very insufferably cheerful prod at the Master’s clothes. The Master grunted and lowered himself to the ground elegantly, his head pillowed on the Doctor’s thigh.

“Are you  _ quite _ comfortable?” the Doctor asked acidly.

“Very. How kind of you to ask,” the Master returned in a lazy drawl, already reading his book.

 

“Hmph.” The Doctor raised his own book in petty retaliation, and for a long while the only noise was the gentle murmur of chatter back in the marketplace and the songs of unfamiliar birds above them.

He only realised that his traitorous hand had crept down to stroke absently through the Master’s hair when he heard the appreciative sigh from his old friend, book left forgotten on his chest and eyes closed. 

“Well? Don’t stop,” the Master chided when the Doctor’s hand faltered. “I was nearly asleep.”

“I’m not here to - to  _ pet you _ like some infernal kitten.” But he resumed his stroking, and the Master made a noise in his throat that was almost a purr, and they laughed. It felt good; the sun, and the breeze, and the awkward rekindling of the part of their often savage relationship that was soft and quiet and companionable.

 

-

 

The Doctor woke up some time later, by the position of the sun in the sky. His book lay beside him, ignored, and his fingers were still tangled in the Master’s hair. It was pleasantly warm, the light golden and dappled over the Master's cheek. He was still asleep, his face relaxed and open, his hands clasped neatly over his stomach.

 

Or not.

 

“I dreamed we were children,” the Master said without opening his eyes.

“Me too.”

“Of course you did, we were touching.”

 

It was the truth, too; he’d dreamed that they were running through those red fields with their hands clasped together, laughing, the sound whipped away by the wind and their hair wild about their faces. 

It felt more like a memory, and perhaps it was- they had spent many hot days running together and falling into a breathless tangle of limbs in the cool grass, many afternoons escaping school and escaping responsibilities they didn't want forced upon them.  _ Tearaways  _ they were called,  _ savage little beasts. _ They had always been rather proud of the horror in the elder’s voices.

 

“They were the best days,” the Master said into the silence, unexpectedly, reading some of the Doctor’s emotion.

The Doctor mused in silence for a while. “Oh, I don't know.”

“No?”

“This is a rather good one, wouldn't you say?”

The Master made a contented  _ hmm _ in the back of his throat, stretching languidly. “I think perhaps you’re right.”

With a regretful frown, the Doctor glanced at the sky and began putting his book back into his pocket. “It’ll be dark soon.”

The light was warm and amber-soft, catching in the leaves like glitter, but he could feel the night drawing close, could already feel how bitterly cold it would get here once the sun retreated, seeping into your bones and making everything numb and miserable.

 

“Doctor?” the Master said quietly, and when he glanced up the Doctor found him suddenly, impossibly close, his movement silent as a cat. 

“Yes,” the Doctor said, but it felt more like an answer than a question, and  _ oh the sunlight in his eyes, I remember how golden they looked as a child when the suns set, how the light made him shine like stardust- _

“I can hear you,” the Master said with a smile in his voice. 

A barbed response was on the tip of the Doctor’s tongue when the Master leaned in the last few inches and kissed him, soft and sweet and strangely tentative, for all his predatory sensuality.

It was madness, but it reminded the Doctor of so many lifetimes ago; of being just two friends without the centuries of baggage, kissing in the sun because it felt  _ good _ and because it seemed like the most natural thing in the world, and he kissed back hungrily, feeling the Master shift to straddle his hips, chest to chest and feeling the wild heartbeats of his friend against his own.

 

The chill began to creep in, the light fading to a strange silver glow, and the Doctor eventually pulled back, feeling sheepish and somewhat ridiculous to have been so publically demonstrative. “I should-” he said, clearing his throat.

“Indeed,” the Master agreed too quickly, getting to his feet and straightening his clothes. “I’ll walk with you.”

The walk back was less casual than the afternoon’s had been, both of them lost in their own thoughts, minds threading together and drifting apart like the endless tides; but their knuckles brushed against each other as they pushed through the vendors packing up their wares for the night and their shoulders touched as they headed back to the Doctor’s TARDIS and at the door, they hesitated, knowing that the next time they met, it would be as enemies once more.

“I should-” the Master said, echoing the Doctor.

“Where’s your-?”

“Oh. Back in the park.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“It’s a tree.”

“Ah, of course.” 

 

“Well, then...”

 

“I don’t suppose you’d care for a cup of tea?” The offer hung in the air between them, inviting and cautious.

“Well, my dear Doctor,” the Master said with a delighted gleam in his eyes, “That depends entirely on what tea you have.”

“Oh, Earl Grey, Assam, Green, Venusian Pearl, that rather explosive mixture from the outpost in Orion’s belt, Martian Green, the usual. I might even have some of the Gallifreyan Gold left, if you’re lucky.”

“I was always fond of a nice hot Gallifreyan.”

“I can have a pot brewing for you in a jiffy, if you’d like.” The Doctor gave him a weary look at his terrible innuendo and the Master tried and failed to hold back a smile.

“That does sound charming, thank you.”

The Doctor paused for a moment, and then turned and disappeared into the TARDIS, leaving the door open in silent invitation. 

The Master slipped in behind him and shut the door quietly.

 

-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Twelve/Missy fluff- same as before, just a little fic which should leave your teeth aching. No drama, just schmoop and a date in Blackpool.

“I want to decide where we go.”

“The last time I let you choose, we were chased by giant sentient jellyfish.”

“Ah, the good old days.”

“Missy!”

“What? Can’t a girl reminisce?”

“That was only last week.”

“You make a fair point.” She narrowed her eyes at him speculatively. “What if I promise to stay on Earth?”

“No dinosaurs,” he said, pointing a finger at her.

“Who said I wanted to time travel, Mister Suspicious?””

“You always want to time travel. Only yesterday you were whining-”

“I don’t  _ whine.” _

“-You were whining that there was no point in having a TARDIS if you didn’t use all of its capabilities.”

“Yes, well. This time, I don’t.”

“Where did you have in mind, then?” the Doctor asked wearily.

“Blackpool.”

 

-

 

“ _ Blackpool?!” _

“There’s no need to shout, dearest. You’re the old man here, I can hear you perfectly well.”

“But why?”

“What’s not to like? Sun, sea, all the ice cream I can make you buy,  _ arcades- _ ”

“You hate arcades!”

“Noo,  _ you  _ hate arcades.”

“Oh, yes, so I do.”

“Can we go?”

“Of all the places-” but the Doctor had no real reason to object, and so he shrugged helplessly. “Fine.”

“Whee!” Missy said gleefully, hopping on the spot. “I’ll be right back, I have to change.”

“Missy, we’re in the Vault-”

“Then turn around and give a Time Lady some privacy, please, Doctor. How unchivalrous.”

“But-” the Doctor turned around anyway, scowling. 

 

-

 

“All done! Shall we?”

“What is  _ that?” _

“My outfit! Do you like it, dear?”

Her skirts were candy-striped, white and red and floaty, and over her blouse (thankfully white) she wore the brightest, cherry-red jacket he had ever seen. She twirled, inordinately proud of herself.

“That’s-”

“Isn’t it just lovely?”

“That’s definitely one word you could use-”

“You know I can hear your thoughts, Doctor.”

She faltered a little; he could see the flash of genuine uncertainty in her eyes that she pushed fiercely back in an instant. He relented, finding he meant the words after all.

“You look beautiful, Missy.”

 

-

 

The TARDIS materialised in an empty shop on a rickety pier, backed into the corner behind a disused cart and a broken candyfloss machine. There was a cafe nearby; Missy clapped her hands in delight at the prospect of tea and cake on the pier, “but only after we stroll to the end and back,” she said firmly. 

 

The Doctor eyed the wooden pier with apprehension. Cheesy music blared from speakers at strategic intervals, covers of songs that weren't good when they were original. And the planks of wood- the only things between them and a watery end- did  _ not  _ look stable. 

 

“Don't be such a spoilsport,” Missy groaned. “It's part of the charm.”

“Potential death is part of the charm?”

“Exactly!”

She slipped her arm through his and they ambled onto the pier. 

“Dance with me.”

“To  _ this _ ?” the nearest speaker was currently belting a lacklustre cover of a Beatles song. The Doctor was vaguely disgusted.

“Yes!” She gave him a smile that caught in his hearts and left him breathless, sunshine and pleasure and giddy excitement, and he couldn't help but smile back at this ridiculous and wonderful creature.  _ My Koschei, always that smile, _ he thought fondly, and in her eyes something softened as she overheard the thought. He spun her across the deck to hide his embarrassment at being caught, watching her skirts whirling around her like a carousel, and he laughed when she danced back to him, swaying with her oblivious to the other tourists around them. 

 

She broke off abruptly to screech “Fudge!” 

 

He followed her into the fudge shop and watched as she filled a paper bag with overpriced confectionary while a bored teenage girl looked on dully.

“That's £18.50.”

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded. “There's only eight pieces of fudge in there, how could it be-”

“Just pay the lady,” Missy growled.

He did.

 

-

“Ice cream!” was her next cry.

The Doctor bought her a two scoop cone- one chocolate, one strawberry, plus rainbow sprinkles, a flake, and raspberry sauce- while he got himself a one scoop of candyfloss flavoured sweetness that made his teeth ache with pleasant nostalgia. They ate in silence as they walked, the warm sunshine and the salty tang to the air working their magic on the Doctor slowly but surely until he was as relaxed as her, their arms linked affectionately and a gentle glow of long misplaced peace between them. He barely protested when she pulled him onto the carousel and when she laughed wildly all the way around he grinned at her with his hearts feeling too big for his chest, laughing along with her and remembering the days spent running through red grass, days where he forgot where they ended and began.

 

“Dizzy,” she said when they clambered off.

“It's your fault for wanting three rides,” he groaned, squinting at his feet.

“I want tea and cake now.”

“Of course you do.”

 

-

 

Urge for tea satisfied, and with cake settling in their stomachs, Missy decided she wanted to walk along the beach.

“Take your shoes off, it's a beach,” she complained, wriggling her bare toes gleefully in the sand. 

“It's wet.” 

“Doctor, you are aware of the concept of a beach, aren't you?”

He took off his shoes and socks without further protest and followed her as she ran into the surf with her skirts held above the water, dancing through the shallow waves as they encroached on the shore. She was always like this on their ‘dates’; he could hardly blame her considering the stuffy air of the Vault. She looked vibrant here; alive and warm and perfectly suited to her mood.

His chest ached with the immense weight of his love for her, memories of so many lifetimes with moments like this rushing through his mind. So many golden days, shining and perfect like good memories always are. So many  _ dates _ , even in regenerations not usually given to sentiment. 

 

They ate fish and chips at an alarmingly tilted table on the North Pier, the haddock hot and flaky and greasy in the way only fresh battered fish can be. 

“I want a pancake,” she said immediately afterwards.

She got her pancake - syrup and strawberries - and he bought sneaky doughnuts that he tried and failed to eat surreptitiously on the way back to their table.

 

\--

 

“What's next?”

“Your favourite. Arcades!”

“Ah.” He looked at the distinctly pirate themed building in front of them in trepidation. 

 

Manfully, he spent about £25.00 in his attempts to win her a soft toy from the claw machine while she watched and gave him critique. The toy he eventually managed to win- a Pinkie Pie plushie with a sparkly mane- was probably only worth £9.99, which she was not impressed with him telling her.

“That is not the point. Come on, play the Camel Derby with me.”

This, he was  _ much _ better at, his reflexes honed and lightning fast. He even enjoyed it. Missy too was unnervingly good, and the two of them spent a companionable half hour rolling the little balls into the holes while plastic camels raced across the field above them. They were perhaps a little  _ too _ good, which is why it was only half an hour; the man in charge of the game couldn’t find any way they were cheating, but he looked increasingly nonplussed as they kept winning and he kept handing over tokens.

“We have enough for the biggest toy,” Missy said, counting up the tokens finally. 

“You want the biggest?”

Said toy was a plushie tiger that was  _ literally _ the size of Missy.

“Yes,” she insisted.

“We’ll collect it at the end?”

“I’ll remind you,” she said sweetly, linking her arm in his in an affectionate way that made his hearts stutter embarrassingly.

“I’m sure you will.”

 

They made a brief detour to the Sealife Center, just long enough for Misy to get emotionally attached to a stingray and tell it that it did a great job killing Steve Irwin (much to the horror of another visitor and almost landing her in a fist fight) and to visit the shark tunnel where she spent twenty minutes baby talking a long nosed and terrifying shark rather incongruously named “Lady.” There was also a sea turtle who was being borrowed from another center and the Doctor had to physically restrain Missy from trying to find a way to steal her. 

Despite that, the Doctor couldn’t help but be rather deliriously happy; he felt as though a rift had been sealed up in his chest, a long open wound that was finally healing with time. They were too old, surely, to hate and fight as bitterly as they had enjoyed in their relative youth. Perhaps it was time to think about more important things, together.

 

Missy clearly agreed. “I think it’s time for another ice cream,” she declared on their way back to the TARDIS, enormous tiger clutched happily in her arms.

“Missy, it’s getting late.”

“Ice cream.” She paused, eyeing him. “And I love you too, you big silly.”

“If you like,” he said carefully, buying them both another ice cream and trying to ignore the rabbit-fast thunder of his hearts, “you can stay with - with me, tonight. Out of the Vault,” he clarified, suddenly very interested in his feet.

“I’d like that,” she said surprisingly softly, and as he smiled at her, she dabbed him on the nose with her ice cream. “Boop. Sorry. It was asking for it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Six/Ainley**

 

“Merely an unfortunate coincidence, my dear Doctor,” the Master shrugged elegantly.

“A coincidence? That you landed your TARDIS within three feet of mine? I hardly think that’s likely, do you?”

“Most unfortunate.”

“Well, since you’re here,” the Doctor grumbled, huffing out an impatient breath, “I suppose you can come in.”

“How generous of you, I’m sure.”

“Don’t get comfortable.” The Doctor stalked off in irritation, already disappearing into the TARDIS. “I thought I’d left you to the Timelords.”

“I escaped, obviously. Where is your  _ charming _ assistant today?” he asked curiously, looking around. “All alone?”

“She’s visiting friends.”

With a begrudging air, the Doctor returned and plopped a cup of tea in front of the Master. “I was going to go somewhere,” he said without looking at the Master, instead finding a loose thread on his coat suddenly interesting. 

“Indeed?”

“Yes. Somewhere really brilliant- I really think I’d like to get out on my own, stretch my metaphorical legs, you know?”

“I will be going, then.” The Master rose from his perch, politely draining his rather badly brewed tea.

“Oh. Well, you don’t count.”

“Well, I- why does this potted plant smell like carrot juice?” the Master asked suddenly, pausing at a bedraggled spider plant.

“Don’t ask,” the Doctor scowled at him from underneath his frankly ridiculous mop of blond hair. “Mel hasn’t noticed yet,” he added, cryptically.

“Quite. Well, Doctor. If you’ll excuse me-”

“I said you could come, didn’t I?”

“No, I don’t believe you did. You said ‘you don’t count’.”

“Exactly. Shall we?”

The Master sat down again, frowning at that technicolour coat with all of the horrified fascination of one who has witnessed a car accident. With a fresh and internal gasp of horror, he noticed that his shoes were  _ green _ . 

“I can hear you,” the Doctor sighed, fiddling with the console. “I like them.”

“I would hope so. This regeneration is a little-”

“If you say fat, I  _ swear _ -”

“My dear Doctor, I would never. I was merely going to comment on your sudden penchant for circus costumes.” He frowned, narrowing his eyes. “What’s wrong with being fat?”

“Apparently Mel is concerned about my waistline.”

“I think it’s a lovely waistline,” the Master said speculatively before he could stop himself.

“That’s what I said!” But the Doctor’s thoughts were coloured pink with pleasure, and the Master smiled. The TARDIS wheezed into life and the Doctor turned to him with a wild, brilliant grin that made him look just like the child he had been, stupid hair and all, and the Master’s hearts ached with fierce love that he hid from his thoughts as best he could.

 

“So where are we?” he asked when the Doctor landed. 

“The Moon!”

“.....the moon.  _ The _ moon? As in, which moon?”

“Come and see!”

The Master followed the Doctor out of the TARDIS doors with apprehension. 

“The moon!”

“Doctor.” The Master closed his eyes for a long moment, sighing heavily.

“Well I knew you wouldn’t like it if I took you to Earth,” the Doctor said, slightly petulantly, as he dragged out a huge picnic basket from the TARDIS.

“So instead, and let me be quite clear that this is not an improvement, we’re not on Earth but are in fact on a tiny, featureless and  _ dead _ ball of rock  _ orbiting the Earth?!” _

“It’s not featureless! Look, a crater! Isn’t that interesting?”

“No.”

“Do try to be a little less boring.”

“Perhaps the moon should try that, too.”

“Master.”

“My apologies, Doctor. I am thrilled by the crater.”

“Now you’re just being sarcastic. Come on- we can explore as long as we stay close enough to the TARDIS that we don’t suddenly lose oxygen.”

They walked a little way, the Master watching as the Doctor’s enthusiasm drooped with every step on the barren surface.

Eventually, the Doctor flopped to the ground dramatically, dust puffing around his feet. 

“Are you quite alright?” the Master asked. He couldn’t help but find the childish impulsiveness of this regeneration endearing, it always amused him. 

“This is boring.”

“It’s not that bad,” the Master tried, gallantly. “It has a certain charm.”

“No, it’s awful and I ruined everything and I should just give up.”

“You have a picnic.”

“I do!” the Doctor jumped up suddenly, grin back in place. “I do have a picnic!” He practically ran to the basket and hauled it back over to them. “I made it myself!”

_ Oh, no _ , the Master thought, but didn’t say anything out loud as the Doctor pulled out a bedraggled assortment of terribly cooked picnic food. The sausage rolls were burned, the pork pies were soggy, the sandwiches were inedible and made with the strangest combinations of fillings. Even the crisps were smashed into tiny pieces, and the Doctor hadn’t even  _ cooked _ those.

They stared at the said assortment of food sadly and in silence for a moment, and the Doctor looked as though he might actually cry. He looked so ridiculous and so stupidly beautiful, strangely innocent in a way that reminded the Master of his last regeneration, that he couldn’t find it in him to be cruel. He started to laugh instead, holding up a twisted and wet sandwich between delicate gloved fingertips. Once he started, of course, he couldn’t stop, and eventually the Doctor gave into it as well, throwing his head back and laughing to the black sky with a glorious and mad joy.

 

He snuck a narrow-eyed and careful look at the Master between breaths.  _ My Koschei, _ he thought fondly.  _ You always could make me laugh. _ He looked away quickly when the Master blinked, clearly hearing the thought, and cleared his throat.

 

“Is there anything edible at all?” the Master asked, changing the subject with grace.

“The strawberries made it intact,” the Doctor said, flushing to have been caught being sentimental, no matter how silently. “And there’s a flask of tea.”

“Splendid!”

They shared the strawberries, and passed the lid of the flask between them, in companionable and surprisingly friendly close quarters, lounging together on the picnic blanket with the Doctor’s head in the Master’s lap and the Master’s hand idly tousling the Doctor’s wild hair. 

_ Love you, _ the Master caught in a gap between the conversation, and he managed to not react further than glancing down at the Doctor’s face and marvelling at the open affection he saw behind the flush of embarrassment and defiant glare.

He smiled, crooked and inadequate for the rush of predictable and messy emotions that crashed through him, and blinked slowly.  _ You too. Always. _

After a moment of silence and a contented sigh, the Doctor frowned. “Should I order us pizza?”

“I don’t think they deliver to the moon, Doctor.”

“No,” the Doctor groaned, exasperated. “I’ll take us to Earth-”

“Of course.”

“-Shush- and order us one from there.”

The Master was about to protest when his stomach rumbled angrily.

“Please,” the Doctor added, spurred on by the obvious interest of the Master’s insides. “Mel hasn’t let me eat pizza for months. Just carrot juice and-” he shuddered, “- _ salads _ .”

“So that’s why the plant smells like carrot juice, you sly old dog,” the Master laughed. “Fine, you’ve convinced me. Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed.”

 

They packed up the basket and hauled it back to the TARDIS, the Master perching himself on a seat again and watching in amusement while the Doctor set the coordinates with haste.

“And I’ll drop you off by your coincidentally parked TARDIS when we’re finished eating.”

“There’s no rush,” the Master replied languidly, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not in a hurry to start my next ingenious scheme.”

“Evil.”

“Same difference.”

The Doctor flipped a lever and winked at him. “I’m glad to hear it. I made cake.”

“On second thoughts, I’ll be going now..” But the Master made no move to leave, and the Doctor grinned as the TARDIS landed with a groan. 

“Let’s eat, then. I’ll buy us a cake.”

“Much better.”

-

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Ten/Simm**

 

“Oh, come  _ on _ , Master,” the Doctor pleaded- no, not pleaded, he didn’t  _ plead,  _ but he did ask nicely, and he  _ was _ asking nicely. “Just once.”

“I’m not going on a  _ date  _ with you,” the Master snarled, tucking his feet more firmly underneath him on the jump seat. “It’s bad enough that I’m stuck here on the TARDIS with you.”

“You’re not stuck,” the Doctor almost groaned, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You came to visit. You’re not a prisoner.”

“I’m not a pet either, but you want to take me for walkies all the same.”

“I don’t-” the Doctor started, then shut his mouth with an audible  _ snap _ . “Fine then,” he said instead, looking slyly at the back of the Master’s head.”I’m going to go out on my own. Have an adventure, see some sights, get some  _ food _ -” he saw the way the Master’s head lifted slightly at the mention of food and grinned to himself. “You’ll be alright here? I might be gone for, oooh, a few hours, yeah?”

“Fine,” the Master said, but the Doctor could hear the effort it took to sound as bored and nonchalant as he managed to.

“Fine then.”

“Fine.”

“I’m going now.”

“Then go.”

“Bye.”

 

The Doctor left the TARDIS and shut the door after him. He took three strides forward, counting down in his head as he did, and then paused.

The TARDIS door swung open and clicked shut, three paces behind him. He grinned to himself. 

The Master looked at him, furious. “What.”

“You’re coming then?”

“I’m coming to ruin your adventure,” he said, sneering. “Can’t have you having fun-”

“Without me?”

“-At all.”

“Of course.”

 

-

 

The Doctor had brought them to a planet- a safe planet, a planet the Master could absolutely not subjugate, should he attempt to. The local wildlife was both friendly and decidedly animal; at this stage in the planet’s development, there was nothing the Master could consider civilised enough to bother with. But it did have glorious, rolling hills and valleys, golden-hued water that shone like amber in the warm yellow sunlight, and a travelling, intergalactic carnival that bustled with activity and light.

The Doctor meandered his way into the crowds, trusting that the Master would follow, and began chatting amiably to the traders.

Sure enough, the Master appeared at his side, scowling. “Is this all you plan to do? This is boring.”

“You mean you don’t want to go on the rides?”

“No.” But the Master’s voice was tinted with uncertainty, his mind flaring into brilliant colours as he glanced around them, taking in the carnival rides. Some were boring; a Ferris Wheel from Earth, a helter skelter that looked like it was for Time Tots, a  very much rigged hook-a-duck game with a bored looking human man running it. But some looked...actually fun. 

The Doctor watched him surreptitiously, grinning, while the Master looked around in an agony of indecision- lie, and maintain his indifference, or admit that yes, he would like to go on the rides, and be humiliated by his admission.

“Fine,” he said eventually. “We can go on a stupid ride if you want to.”

“Oh, I do,” the Doctor replied cheerfully. “Where do you think we should start?”

“That one,” the Master said emphatically, pointing to a hover-coaster that had several alarming loops and one stomach-turning chasm leap. People stumbled away from it, several crying and some vomiting on the grass nearby.

 

“Of course,” the Doctor said with a tolerant sigh. “Come on then!”

Safely buckled in, the Master did his best to look uninterested- and managed, right until the first twisting loop, where he broke out into the biggest, most ridiculously sunny grin the Doctor had ever seen from this regeneration, laughing and whooping his way around the entire ride with his eyes narrowed against the wind and his arms in the air.

“Again,” he demanded once the ride came to a stop, and the Doctor couldn’t refuse him even though he was feeling a little bit sick.

 

They rode the hover-coaster three times before the Doctor could prise the Master off it with the promise of another ride before they left.

“Are you going to be sick?” the Master asked with great relish.

“No.”

“You  _ look _ like you’re going to be sick.”

“Please stop saying  _ sick.” _

"Nah."

The Doctor looked around carefully. “How about this one?”

“What, rocket-bumper cars? Isn’t that for children?”

“Depends on how hard you hit me. Come on.” The Doctor gave him a wild and roguish grin and trotted off towards the ride. After paying the green skinned lizard man a ridiculous sum of money to hire  _ all _ of the cars so that no one else got hurt, the Doctor hopped into his - blue, of course -  and waited as the Master clambered into a red and black one. “Catch me if you can.”

The Master smirked and hauled at the steering wheel, turning the car at an almost impossible angle and smashing straight into the Doctor before he’d even had a chance to move.

“Not fair!” the Doctor said petulantly, before laughing as he accelerated away out of the Master’s reach, orange flame spouting from the burners at his rear.

 

By the time the owner eventually called a stop to their fun, pointing angrily at the crowd of impatient carnival-goers who wanted a turn, they were both sweaty and breathless and grinning. They hopped out of the bumper cars like chastised schoolboys, running off together across the fairground.

_ He’s beautiful, _ the Doctor couldn’t help but think.  _ I wish we could be like it was before- _

“Stop being sentimental in our heads and let’s go on this one,” the Master grimaced. 

“The ghost train?”

“You get guns to shoot the ghosts!”

They scrambled into their carriage, knees pressed together, the Master’s warmth comforting and familiar against the Doctor’s side. He leaned in a little more than necessary, knuckles brushing the Master’s thigh as he picked up his laser gun. After a tense silence, the Master leaned his shoulder into the Doctor’s with tentative, too-casual nonchalance, and the ride began. 

In the darkness, it was much easier to pretend that the Doctor wasn’t practically snuggling against the Master, the ‘ghosts’ terrible and badly made but great fun to shoot at. The Master was particularly entertained, getting so excited that he whipped out his laser screwdriver and thoroughly “killed” a papier mache werewolf while yelling “Kill it! Kill it!”

“I’m sure the nasty paper is dead now,” the Doctor remarked dryly, the little carriage coasting by as the unfortunate remains of the werewolf smouldered. 

“Shut up. It startled me.”

“You’re in a ghost train.”

The Master didn’t answer, shooting sulkily with the proper gun at a hologram of a skeleton while snuggling in closer to the Doctor. Their free hands entwined in the darkness, the Master squeezing a little too tightly. The Doctor didn’t care, thrilled and exhilarated, his blood singing with joy at being so close,  _ touching _ , memories of running through red fields and screaming together in reckless abandon, laughter and defiance and freedom-

“I can hear you.”

But he didn’t pull away until the carriage rolled out into the sunlight again, the two of them climbing out of their carriage in silence and walking quickly away before the Master’s destruction was discovered.

 

“I want food,” the Master frowned, eyeing a child with candyfloss and reaching out his hand to steal it.

“No-” the Doctor said quickly, dragging him away from the confused child and shooting an apologetic smile at their mother. “-I’ll buy you candyfloss if you want it.”

“Where's the fun in that?” he grumbled, but followed the Doctor towards the kiosk obediently.

“What would you like?” 

“Hot dog,” the Master said, brightening  immediately. “Candyfloss. Popcorn. One of those fried potatoes on sticks.”

The Doctor started to relay his order.

“- I’m not done. Ice cream. Some of that weird fruit candy. Aaaaannnnnd….a purple slushie.”

“Did you get all that?” the Doctor asked wearily, handing over a handful of notes. It was a good job he’d actually remembered money this time. Usually it seemed so unimportant until he actually needed to pay for something.

 

They sat themselves on a grassy hill on the outskirts of the carnival while the Master ate with all the eagerness of a hyena. It was fascinating, if vaguely gruesome, to watch.

“Did you not get anything?” the Master asked suddenly, rummaging in his popcorn tub.

“Nah,” the Doctor shrugged, deciding not to tell him that he had simply ran out of money. “Not hungry.”

“When will you remember I can hear your thoughts, Doctor.”

_ Sorry. _

“Besides, you’re always hungry.”  _ I remember you used to cram your face with anything you could get as a child, it was hilarious- _

There was an awkward silence where they didn’t look at each other, and then the popcorn tub, still three quarters full,  was angrily thrust into the Doctor’s hands while the Master, seemingly uninterested, unwrapped a fruity sweet and popped it into his mouth.

“But-”

“Didn’t want it anyway.”

The Doctor smiled and leaned his shoulder against the Master’s while he munched on the popcorn. 

 

-

 

“We should go on that next,” the Doctor said as he ate, pointing at the drop tower ride then running his finger around to rim of the tub to get the last of the grease.

“That looks  _ easy.” _

“The people screaming might not agree. Look, it goes so high you can’t see the top. Intergalactic technology, eh?”

“Alright,” the Master agreed, giving the Doctor a handful of sweets absently. “Bet you cry.”

“I will  _ not.” _

“Bet you’re  _ sick.” _

“Shut up,” the Doctor laughed, elbowing the Master. He grinned back at the Doctor, a proper grin with no malice underneath it, and as one they scrambled to their feet and pelted towards the ride, laughing and pushing each other.  _ Ah, my Theta,  _ the Doctor caught, snatched between breaths, and his chest burst with love and pride at the affection in the thought.

 

-

 

“It is quite high,” the Doctor gulped, looking up as the machine rumbled slowly towards the top of the tower.

“Yeah,” the Master agreed, slightly pale.

“Are you going to be sick?”

“No!” the Master scoffed, then swallowed thickly. “Maybe.”

“Me too.”

“This was a mistake.”

“It’s an adventure.”

“God, I hate you.”

The machine lurched to a stop at the very top, neither of them able to see the bottom as they were above cloud level. They could see the shimmer of an oxygen bubble keeping them from asphyxiating, which was only slightly comforting.

“This is a lovely date,” the Doctor grinned at him cheerily.

“This isn’t a- _ shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit-!”  _ the Master tried to reply, just as the ride began hurtling back down to the ground. The Doctor laughed and screamed and swore alongside him as they were thrown back to the planet’s surface unceremoniously, their eyes watering and their heads thrown back with the force.

 

-

 

“It’s alright,” the Doctor said warmly, patting the Master on the back as he vomited into a shrub. “It really  _ was _ very high.”

“Shut up,” came the indistinct mumble in response. “Please.”

“Would you like some more ice cream?”

“I will kill you and I won’t regret it.”

"How's that slushie look the second time?"

"I am going to murder you with your own tie."

 

Recovered, they wandered off from the festival and back towards the TARDIS, shoulder to shoulder and in companionable silence.  _ Not the most romantic of dates, _ the Doctor thought,  _ but a good one. _

“Not a date.”

The Doctor shrugged. “Alright.”

He felt cool fingers curl against his palm and smiled to himself as he entwined their hands together. 

“If it had been, though,” the Master said suddenly as they reached the TARDIS and shouldered their way inside.

“Yes?”

_ It would have been a really, really good one. _

“Yeah,” the Doctor agreed. “Really good. D’you want tea? I want tea.”

“Tea sounds good,” the Master said after a moment’s hesitation, face relaxing into a smile that was soft at the edges and sweetly fond. “You idiot.”


End file.
